


From The Dark Then Unto Dawn

by CescaLR



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: (but you know what they say about that), (kind of), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dark Magic, Dark Willow Rosenberg (BtVS), F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Good Intentions, M/M, Not A Fix-It, So..., Time Travel Fix-It, anyway, ergo, ok these tags are confusing but bear with me, some things are fixed and some aren't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Willow has a plan, and Osiris unwilling, she will succeed in it.No matter who stands in her way.





	From The Dark Then Unto Dawn

There's nothing else for it. She can feel _all of it, _the pain, the torment - everything she's suffered, everything everyone's suffered, she can _feel it, _all of it, and there's nothing else for it.

She can stop this.

She has the power to.

There's an old ritual site, somewhere in the middle of new mexico. She doesn't care who built it, doesn't care it's true purpose, doesn't care about anything but all the screaming in her head, _tara, buffy, xander, fucking spike, _everyone, everything, always screaming, yelling at her their pain, so loud, so - overwhelming, and it's not just them - there's a boy being raped in santa monica, there's a girl being beaten in surrey, there's five women and four girls being trafficked in the east, for slavery, for marriage, for sex and lineage, for the continuation of dying lines, and its more than she can take, more than anyone can take, all this _pain, _all this suffering, and she needs it _to end. _And she can end it. She can stop this. 

She just needs more _time. _Stupid, _stupid _little Willow, the girl with so much fucking potential but so goddamn scared - too scared of her own power, too scared of her friends' opinons, to scared of what she wanted and too scared to go after it, _too fucking scared._

She isn't scared any more.

She'd do it better. She'd keep up her skills, her studies, she'd start magic earlier, wouldn't bother with the '_emotional concentration' _because she doesn't need it, never needed it, Giles and his stiff-backed watcher code held her _back, _they all did, every single fucking one of them, and Willow can do better. She can save everyone. That lady twenty blocks away still stuck with her parents, abusive, _like Xander's, _that young girl starving in - all those young girls starving, all those young boys, in places with little food and water - there's - there's Cordelia, dying as they speak, there's - there's Wesley, going down a path he can't return from, won't return from, and fuck this, fuck all of it, this world is doomed. It's doomed, she doesn't _care, _but she cares _too much._

** _Tara is dead.  
_ **

Everyone leaves her. They all do. Oz, Xander, Buffy, Tara. They all leave, the ones she loves. She hasn't seen her family in years, doesn't know where they went or why they stayed gone, doesn't care, but _does, _because she knows where they are, right know, living happily, not a fucking care in the world while a woman dies in the alley two fucking steps away from their immaculate fucking _lawn. _Oz left, Xander - they didn't work out, couldn't work out, but he left, too, in his way, to the adult world, with - shitty jobs and a wife-to-be and Willow's still here, still stuck, failing college because of one fucking apocalypse after another, and then Buffy _dies, _Buffy fucking _dies, _and she's back but she's not _Buffy, _not really, Willow can _see _it, in her aura, in the way her shadow sticks, and then - and then - _and then - _

Willow detours, because she has a plan, but it can wait. She has a _plan, _goddamnit, but she can't do it if - if she knows, here, with these people she'll leave behind, those _bastards _who were _friends _with _Warren _are alive.

She can't.

So she kills them.

It's quicker now, easier. She's crying the whole time, she thinks, screaming at them, but it doesn't register, she doesn't care, and she watches, vindicated, as the two _boys _blow up, their skin streches, expands, something bubbles under the surface, unnatural, and she watches, transfixed, as their eyes bulge in their sockets and pop, pop, pop, _pop, _all gone, and they explode, viscera and blood and gore and skin and cloth and hair and _disgusting sweat from their pathetic fear _is flung in all directions, but it doesn't hit her because she's not there, she doesn't need to be there, she's sat cross-legged on a truck driving to the ritual site, one hand on the top and a _tiny, __miniscule _percentage of her magic ordering the middle-aged man in the driver's seat to _floor it. _

Willow smiles, through the tear tracks streaming down her face, as she feels their pain, intimately, like it is her own, like she feels the pain of the other seven billion fucking losers on this hellhole of a planet, losers because they're here, stuck _here, _of all versions of this earth, this version with vampires and other demons, with people like Warren and people like _Willow. _

Unlucky fucking souls. So, so fucking _unlucky._

The blip of pain she feels from Buffy, the larger stabs from Xander and Giles and the others, when they realise Giles' stupid fucking plan failed, failed so _horribly _and just made everything _worse, _like all his plans tended to do, always, and she tells him this, because she never did, sends it into his head, _you never help, you only hurt, you deserve so much worse, where were you, where were you when we needed you, none of us have anyone, no adults to show us the way, we were kids and it's your fault, everything, why did you do this to me, why did you do this to **me, **_and Willow laughs, as he collapses under the barrage, cries at his pain, because it _hurts, _because she _cares, _and she hates it, she hates it, she wants to be _numb _but she can't be, can never not know about the horrors of the earth thanks to this _asshole, _this arrogant old man with less sense than he likes to think, and suddenly Willow misses Jenny in a way she hasn't in years, because Jenny helped, goddamn it, she helped Giles, helped him be better, helped him to understand caring wasn't so bad, helped him in ways nobody had since, and Willow hates Angel so much, can feel his pain like a beacon, can feel the causes and wants to curse him, so she does, just like that, sees him fall helplessly into his own mind and they've arrived, so Willow floats down from the truck and doesn't pay attention to the pain of the crash because - because it doesn't matter, this will all be over soon.

So soon. So _very soon. _

The man will be home with his wife, back in the nineties, with no knowledge at all that he'd died. His daughter will be on the way, and he'll watch her grow, help her, raise her well, and Willow wants this so badly, wants to see that happen, wants to know it does, but she can't, because she needs to - she can't _concentrate, _with all this noise, so much _noise, _so she - she blocks it.

She has the power to, now. She blocks the noise, misses Xander's tugging, misses his wish to be with her in the last moments, and pushes, pushes everything aside, buries it under power and conviction, as her eyes burn, as she weeps, as she throws her hands out and clears the ritual site of the years and years of disuse, clears away the sand and the errosion and everythig, and before her stands a temple, old and strange, and Willow doesn't recognise the sigils but she doesn't need to; she touches them, and _understands. _

Willow stands in the centre, reaches out to the magic, to everything, to all the gods and demons of above, and demands.

_"Send me back!"_

There is refusal, she can hear it, but there's fear. They can't say no forever. Willow is - _Willow. _She's beyond them. She always has been, she was just too fucking stupid to realise it.

_"**Send me back." **_She growls, imperative, it's imperative she goes back, she needs to fix this, something needs to be done - too many hurt, too many dead, there's something brewing, and she can't stop it, and it scares her, the feeling, whatever it is, it's _strong, _and she can feel it, suddenly, an awareness she hadn't known she had -

_"Send me back." _She pleads, as a wave of pain and torment hits.

"**_SEND ME BACK!" _**Willow screams, and it hurts - suddenly, a tugging at the very core of herself, and she screams louder, oh god, what is this - and clarity, for a moment, for a blessed moment, oh god, what has she _done, _and then pain and then pain and then _pain, _like she's never known and then -

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

* * *

Willow screams awake. She's alone, the house is cold, empty, dark. She's scared so suddenly, so unexpectedly that she gasps, screams again, a halted, hoarse thing, and then she registers where she is.

Willow gasps, again, sucks in a sharp, harsh breath. She coughs, chokes on the air for a second, but pulls herself back together, pushes down the confusion in place of contemplation.

It could have been a dream, Willow thinks. A very cold, very harsh, very horrible dream. But there's something different. She can feel it; something bubbling below the surface. She lifts her hand into the air, and when she drags it leftwards - it leaves a golden trail in it's wake, her fingers parting the atoms of the molecules in the air like _nothing, _putting things in the space left behind that shouldn't - shouldn't be _possible, _but here she is, glowing golden trail and all.

Willow yelps, scrambles back and hits her head on the wall behind her bed. She yelps again. "_Ouch." _She whines, shuffles forward and leans on her knees, which she brings up to her chest for comfort. She shrinks in on herself as she watches the trail dissapate, rubs at the sore spot on her scalp gingerly with two, cool fingers.

_"Ooh." _She hums, as a soothing coolness spreads from her fingers, numbing the pain in her scalp. "Oh, that's nice."

Yes, something's definitely off, about - everything. She couldn't do this yesterday, that's for damn certain - _oh god, she just swore._

"Bitch." Willow says. "Fuck. Shit. Bastard."

Well. That's a test of something, since she remembers flinching not that long ago when Xander slammed his foot into a wall by accident and swore at the pain. Jessie had laughed at him - Willow had flinched at the swearing and offered to get a bag of ice.

God, she remembers _spelling out _swear words like a goddamn _child, _but that didn't happen yesterday, it - it hasn't even happened _yet, _she thinks, and there's - something in her head, some block, she's not sure, but she's too scared to touch it.

Fucking coward, she thinks, and then blinks.

"Oh... kay," Willow says. "This is wigging me out."

It really is. Willow stands on shaky legs, walks over to the light switch and winces at the brightness. She walks over to the vanity, looks at herself in the mirror - and nearly screams again. She squeaks, and then slaps herself on the forehead for it.

"C'mon, Rosenberg," She says, and something about her inflection sounds _different. _"Don't be a wimp."

Willow sits down on her chair, stares at herself in the mirror.

Her skin's pale, paler than normal, she looks almost worse than the vamp!her had, and that's saying something. But at leat the vampire her had red hair - redder hair, even, than her own. No, here...

Willow raises a hand to her head. It's the same style she'd had at this point - _she'd had at this point? _\- and it's heavy. Willow hadn't realised how heavy long hair was until now, now that it felt strange, now that it felt - almost nostalgic, but there's that block again, and she doesn't understand _why. _

Willow hesitates, then touches her hair. It's real - well, of course it is, but... it's not - not like someone's put a wig over her hair, or something. Maybe someone could have pranked her, could have died it in her sleep, but Willow doesn't know anyone who'd do that, so...

Willow checks the roots. Either they did too good a job, or... or her hair is black. Unnaturally.

There is nothing natural about how she looks, Willow thinks. She looks at herself -

Wait. _Vamp!Willow??_

Willow yelps. "Vampire!" She says. "There's - what!"

Vampires. _Vampires are real. _Willow's sitting here, young as fuck, and she's just realised Vampires are real.

"Buffy isn't hear yet," She says, and she's not even sure who Buffy is. Her voice is quiet and worried but - pleased and smug. Like she's done something she's proud of, but that something is dangerous. Maybe.

Willow doesn't know. Right now, looking at her own reflection, at the pale skin and black eyes and black hair and black veins, she looks nothing like herself, and she doesn't feel like herself, either.

"Conceal." She murmurs, and then - relief floods into her veins, as he eyes bleed back to normal, her sclera returning to an off white, as her hair turns back to red, and her skin regains it's healthy, human glow, a tinge of pink, and tinges of blue around the veins on her wrists.

Willow swallows. She opens her drawer, finds her scissors, and -

"Cut." She says, and the scissors float in the air for a moment - then fly around her, and she tenses - but her hair is cut, cut short, cut to her shoulders, layered, and then the scissors drop to the floor, dormant.

"Waves." She says, and her hair curls up, a little, the waves and kinks in it now making it look a little shorter, middle of the neck and no longer brushing her shoulders.

"Wash," She says. Her hair shines, like she'd just been to a salon, to some expensive place with fancy shampoo and nice leather chairs. It has volume, it bounces, healthy and pretty and Willow can't help but grin, a little giddy.

Sue her. She's a teenage girl.

Sort-of.

Willow thinks - thinks she remembers more things than she should, for someone who's only had sixteen or so years on this planet. But it's vague. Some details, some pieces, but not the whole picture. There's a block she can feel, and it rankles, but it's not - cohesive. She _knows. _She has _power. _

That could be enough to change things. Even though she's not sure what she needs to change.

Willow stands, first, though, because - because she's _different, _now, and she's done pretending for anyone. Willow walks over to her closet. She opens it, eyes everything in there critically and with distate.

"Loser." She says. "What a fucking loser. I peaked in high school as the class geek, failed at college and became a junkie. Tale as old as fucking time."

Willow paled, and winced. _A Junkie?? Willow??? she'd taken **drugs??**_

Willow shuddered, full force, then rolled her eyes at herself.

"Burn." She says, and her clothes do just that.

Willow turns to her dresser, opens it and floats everything out. She burns that which she doesn't want, and then transforms that which she thinks is alright into something more fitting. Literally. What was with all the baggy fucking sweaters? Fluffy goddamn sweaters with disgustingly cute animals on the front. Eugh. She'd been such a child.

Willow blanches. _"Hey!" _She says. "I like that one!"

The jumper she was about to burn drops to the floor. Willow blinks.

"What is _going on," _She breathes, half-terrified.

Willow supposes she'll find out tomorrow. It's the day Buffy arrives, after all, and who knows, maybe the Slayer and her Watcher can give this witch some _answers. _

Wait. What?

"Slayer?" She squeaks. "Watcher? _Witch?"_

Willow, rather unceremoniously, faints on the spot.

* * *

She wakes up to her alarm five hours later. It's unfortunate. She's groggy and worn out and unsure, but it's _school, _and Willow will never, ever, not _once, _miss a day of school for no good reason.

Some might argue she has one - waking up with magical powers and inexplicable knowledge and black eyes with black veins and black hair, but. Semantics.

Willow pushes it all down - thoughts of the future-that-could-be-she's-pretty-sure-that's-what-the-memories-are-anyway, thoughts of oh-god-I'm-a-witch, good-thing-I-was-never-all-that-religious-just-culturally-jewish, and everything else - as she dresses for the day. She scours her closet for anything that survived the great fire, but, alas, nothing, so Willow settles for the only surviving skirt, blouse, and fuzzy sweater. She pulls on her socks, shoves her feet into her shoes, and bolts downstairs. Ready made toast flies into her hand as she summons her packed bag to settle across her shoulders, and she's made it halfway down the street before she realises she'd done any of that. Packed her bag and made her breakfast... using magic, without realising it.

"_Shit." _She breathes. "Ack." She adds, at the swearing.

Willow takes a deep breath. Her hair is still magically - hah - perfect from last night, thank god, since she'd forgotten to brush it - and it's still red. A little redder than normal, a little brighter, more vibrant... a nicer colour, in her own privately insecure opinion, and at that she rolls her eyes again.

"loser," She mutters to herself, then frowns in annoyance. She's _not _a loser. Willow's very smart, she'll have herself know, and she's got two great friends and loads of awesome prospects.

"Peak at high school," She reminds herself. "Future junkie."

Willow resolves to never go near any drugs, as she scowls at herself. "Not now." She decides, resolutely.

"Bad time?" Xander asks. Oh god, she'd forgotten he skateboarded back then.

Willow blinks. She'd gotten him the skateboard for his birthday - he'd used it to see her during the summer - what -

"A bit," She says, apologetically. "Excited for school?" She asks, bubbly.

Xander snorts. "You know me," He says. "Ever the studious student. What's up, Will?"

Willow shrugs. "I dunno," She says. "Just a bit grumpy, it'll pass. Jesse walking with us?"

"Nah," Xander says. "He's still asleep, I'll bet."

Willow frowns, worriedly. "He'll be late!" She exclaims, unecessarily. "Go ahead, Xander, I'll drag him up," She says, decisively, and spins on her heel.

"See you in math!" Xander calls out, as he skates off.

Willow stalks in the direction of Jesse's house. Man, now that's a name she's not heard in a long time -

Willow freezes. Then it hits her, and - and then she weeps. Just - just cries in the middle of the street, two houses down from her other best friend's house, that won't be his house for long, because in what feels like a few days he'll be _dead. _

Willow stops. Stops crying, stops breathing, just stops in her tracks.

He won't be. And even if he is, she can give him back his self. But _better. _No happiness clause, no thank _you. _

Willow takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and marches over to the door of Jesse's house. She knocks, rapidly, impatiently, and when it opens she looks at Jesse, still not dressed, deeply wounded.

"You'll be late for school." Willow says, horrified.

"I'll be a minute," Jesse says, easily. "Relax, Will. Won't take two seconds." And then he's gone back inside, so, alright.

Willow gives him a minute. It's easier to dilate time than to travel through it, so she does just that.

"Stop." She commands, and the breeze halts. The door doesn't finish it's swing shut. "Slow." She intones, and everything moves as if stuck in molasses.

Everything except Jesse, and whatever he interacts with. Jesse meets her at the door, ten minutes but sixty seconds later, and time resumes it's normal pace.

Willow blinks, raises a hand to her forehead, as she sways lightly for a moment. It's over, very quickly, that percieved rest period, and she feels like she could pick up a mountain and throw it into orbit. With her _mind. _

She wipes under her nose, for some reason, instinctual, but - nothing. Willow doesn't know what she expected.

"You good, Will?" Jesse asks.

"Peachy keen," She smiles. "C'mon, Jesse. We don't want to be late!" She says, grabs him by the hand, and - and then they're outside the high-school.

Jesse blinks, and she panicks, and then he blinks again, confusion leaving his expression. "Phew," He says, and he sounds like he's run a marathon. "Did _not _know we could run that fast, Will."

"Me neither," She says, faux breathlessly. "Come on."

"Wait." Jesse stops them. He looks at her, then blinks. "You cut your hair!" He says, surprise evident.

"Yeah," Willow says, sheepisly. "It kept getting in the way, so -"

"Looks great, Will," Jesse says. "Oh boy."

Willow turns, and sees Xander smash into the railing because he saw Buffy.

Willow grimaces. That crush never led anywhere good. She clenches on hand into a fist by her side, then discretely yanks backwards. Xander falls again, an unfortunate side-effect, but now Willow holds his crush in her hand.

Holy shit. Willow blinks down at it - and there's nothing for it. You can't destroy love, even stupid, useless crushes like this one, based on nothing but attraction, since he hasn't even spoken to the blonde yet.

Willow sighs. She morphs the crush, changes it, makes it an equal level of - platonic love, and then chucks it back to Xander.

That'll have to do, she thinks, then blinks, and feels horrified at what she's done. She just - oh _god - _

Xander does a double take when he sees them.

"How did I not notice you'd cut your hair?" Xander says, confused, once he's arrived beside them. They walk in together, and... Willow's missed this. She's not sure how she's missed this, but she supposes a whole summer - and whatever future led to Jesse's death - caused the nostalgic longing.

"Ah - uh - w-well," Willow stammers. She's got no lies ready, and she was always god awful at them anyway.

"Sorry, Willow," Xander says, genuinely. "It looks great."

Willow smiles, quietly pleased.

"New look for a new year," Jesse agrees. "Maybe I should do a wardrobe change. Wear clothes that'll entice the ladies."

Of course, he means Cordelia. Xander scowls slightly, and - Willow doesn't remember when his thing for Cordy started. That's mildly annoying, but, whatever. She's not going to ruin it for them this time. They can do that themselves, if it happens at all. Who knows, without their little slip, the couple might actually have stayed together. Anyway, he's probably scowling for other reasons. Namely, his lack of funds to do anything they're talking about.

"I'm going to look for a part-time job this year." Willow decides. "I want - you know."

"Independance," Xander nods, "The wish of all adolescents, apparently."

"We should look for one together," Willow continues, cheerfully. "Get a pool of money going."

"Not a bad shot, Will," Jesse agrees. "Only so much the folks can spare, after all."

"And unis like responsability," Willow adds. "So it looks good. Anyway!" They've arrived at their homeroom for this year, and file on inside. "This'll be a good year," Willow promises, as she looks at her friends - one dead, one defeated; haggard by life and all it had thrown at him, no chance to be his own man until it was too late. "I know it will be."

Willow has a plan, and Osiris unwilling, she will succeed in it.  
  
No matter who stands in her way.

* * *

Buffy and Cordelia find her in the hallway like last time, at the water fountain - but Cordelia does a double take before she can insult Willow like she had Before. 

"You've _styled your hair." _Cordelia says. She looks at her, considering. Confused, probably, but always good at hiding that. Cordelia will die, Willow thinks, if she doesn't stay in Sunnydale. Willow isn't sure what to do about that.

_Dear god, _she thinks. _Save her, for fucks sake. _

"Yeah," Willow says, nervously. She tugs at the hem of her sweater. "I'm trying something new."

"It's not trash," Cordelia says, bluntly. "I'm surprised, Willow, didn't know you had it in you."

Willow shrugs.

"Buffy, Willow Rosenberg, resident nobody and computer geek." Cordelia gestures. "Willow, Buffy Summers, best thing to happen to this town since me."

Buffy smiles, warily. Willow - Willow used to really hate Cordelia, but now... she just pities her. She gets a really bad deal, at the end of the day. The definition of peaking in high school, unlike Willow's 'not yet a junkie' version of 'peaking'.

"Nice to meet you," Willow says, sincerely. "I hope you'll like it here. It's um - a bit dangerous at night, but, Sunnydale's nice."

"We have one nightclub and no mall," Cordelia dismisses. "It's terrible. But you'll fit right in, I'm sure."

"I hope so," Buffy says. Willow runs off, like last time, but this time mostly because it's awkward, not because she's scared.

Always so fucking scared.

* * *

It's a little different already, she thinks, this time around. Xander helps Buffy out when she drops her bag because he'd like to be her friend, not because he wants to kiss her senseless. Or to be kissed senseless, Willow never did figure that one out, and she'd fucked him. They didn't date, that would've required neither of them be hitched with their own respective boyfriend and girlfriend at the time. But they - made out a lot, and played footsie, and yeah, didn't actually _fuck, _but you know, they'd fucked. Metaphorically. Might as well have, since they were already cheating on Oz and Cordelia anway. 

"Too many f-words _too many f-words," _She mutters to herself, as she scans the shelves of the sunnydale high library.

There's other stuff that's different too. Smaller things. Cutting her hair, planning to change up her wardrobe. Cordelia's mild respect. Walking into school with Jesse and Xander, instead of just Xander, no schoolwork cheating talks to be heard. Meeting Buffy.

She wonders if it will mean anything, in the end, as she takes her two math text books and the one on demonology to the counter. Willow rings the little desk bell, and - oh god, he looks so young. He's not really, she knows this, but damn. He looks young. Less tired. More stiff. And, yeah, now she remembers why she'd thought he was cute.

She wonders if her changes will be enough. To make the world better. That's what she thinks this is for, anyway, what she can glean despite the block. She came back for a reason, and it was to change everything for the better. It's a - strange weight, across her shoulders, but it doesn't feel heavy. It feels - like nothing. Like she can do _anything. _

"Hello," Willow says, brightly, to the watcher. "I'd like these, please."

Giles rings her up, then pauses on the demonology book.

"I like myths," She smiles. "We like superstition here, I guess, too. Things that go bump in the night, you know?" She babbles.

"Sunnydale is a very interesting town," Giles agrees.

"Oh, you're british!" She grins. "Cool! Nice to meet you, I'm Willow - you're the new librarian, then?" She frowns, mildly. "Careful," She adds. "It's, uh -" Willow looks left and right, a little furtively. "It's not exactly safe here after dark," She says. "Public property, you know, anyone can get in."

Giles eyes her critically. "I'll keep that in mind," He promises. "Great!" Willow chirps, then escapes with her books clutched tightly to her chest.

* * *

At lunch, Buffy still sits with her. Jesse and Xander still show up, as does Cordelia. Jesse still flirts with Cordy, and Willow mentally grimaces. Xander pays no attention, just banters with Cordy - they've always, the both of them, given as good as they got, and Willow wonders why she'd never realised they enjoyed this before... probably too wraped up in her infatuation with Xander - and then, you know, it just... Willow lets it go as it did. What's the harm, really? The start was good. It was - everything after that. Jesse's death, the master's rise, Angel, the Mayor and Faith, the initiative, Adam, Glory. 

God, _Glory. _What she would give to -

Oh. She could. She could - she could just - wring his pathetic little neck in the grasp of her superior magic. Willow could. She could just. Kill Ben.

Now.

But she cant, Willow reminds herself. Dawn isn't here yet, she thinks, and wallows in the confusion that brings up. _Who's Dawn, _she wonders, bwildered, _and why is she thinking about killing a guy called Ben???_

Willow doesn't know. Everything feels like it's spiralling out of her control, like she doesn't have the best grip on reality. Maybe that's why she lets it happen, maybe that's why she lets herself be taken by the vampire, maybe that's why - 

Maybe that's why, when she sees Darla, she snaps the vamipre's neck, says the word and watches her _burn. _Luke's wary to attack after that, the other vampires scarpering, and it doesn't take long for Buffy to show up. Willow felt faint, in a strange way, something in her brain just _cracking _as she watches Luke escape, again, but why is she here? She wasn't here last time, wasn't in the tomb. She doesn't think. It's - the block, it's hiding things, and it's been a long time, since all of this. It all blurs together in her head, confusing and too much, but too little, yet just enough. Enough to tell Buffy, distant-toned, that he went into the sewers, but don't go after him, please don't go after him, what is going on, what's happening, what's happening to me, I don't know, I don't _understand, _and she's close enough to touch, and Willow allows herself this like she allowed it not so long ago, when she tried to quit the 'drugs', when she was high as a kite with no change of coming down, she lets herself cling on and just_ cry._

* * *

She feels better, when she wakes, when the world around her fades into focus, sharp and bright but welcome, wanted. 

_"They have Jesse."_ Willow hears._  
_

She stops feeling better. Her vision goes red around the edges, and she doesn't hear it, when they call to her, she just - she storms through the hallways of her high school, a place she hadn't been to in years, she storms through and leaves and goes where she knows them to be. Where they were last time. 

Willow finds him. She sticks him in the air, makes it like tar around him. She blocks off the passage ways as she works. She will not stop. She won't rest. Jesse is _Jesse, _goddamnit, and she misses her other best friend. This can't happen the same way twice, it _can't. _

It's a quick fix, giving him Angel's shoddy soul-job, but it does the trick, for now. Willow will make it better, make it permanent, losen it's grip on his guilt and his sanity for - as much as is safe. For now, she knocks him out, and floats him out, carries her with him, forward march, back to the library.

Someone gasps when she enters, someone yelps when she drops him to the floor.

"He's fine." Willow says. Her vision is strange, blurred, and her voice is thick. "He has his soul."

"Willow," A calm, gentle, masculine voice says, and she thinks - it _might _be Giles. She's not sure. She knows three english men, and only one of them would talk to her like that, so it must be Giles.

Willow makes a noise, a noise of something she isn't sure, and colapses, is caught by someone or something, carefully moved towards a chair, which she slumps in, gratefully, because she's tired and confused and there's - there's something wrong with her, she can feel it, in her head, behind the block, but she doesn't know what it is.

"He's fine." Willow repeats, in case they didn't hear her before, insistant. "He has his soul, please, Buffy don't stake him, he's my - my best friend, please, he's Xander and mine's best friend, we've known each other since we were little kids, please, he's got his soul, Buffy _please-"_

Something smooths her hair back as she halts, tries to babble more but can't find her voice. She rubs at her eyes, tries to clear her vision, and finds them wet, drenched with tears, and oh, that explains it. 

"I wont," Buffy says, comfortingly close. "Willow, I won't, I promise."

_"Thank you," _Willow gasps, and it's too much. It's too much.

She passes out, right there and then, on the table in the middle of the school library.

* * *

Willow's sick and tired of falling unconcious already. She's not _Giles. _

"Well that was mean," She mumbles to herself.

"You're awake!" Xander says, faux-cheerfully, quiet-loud.

There's sobbing. Willow sits up, rubs at her eyes. Her head is _pounding. _And there's something up her nose.

"You had a nose bleed," Buffy says, as Willow takes the wad of toilet paper from her nostril. "Just on the one side. That was - just in case."

"Oh." Willow says.

"Giles says you have magic," Buffy says, softly. "That the trauma of - everything made it manifest."

"_Oh," _Willow says.

"Jesse's - here," Xander says. "He's not doing so good, Will, but he's, he's so glad you - you found him."

"Oh." Willow says, then bites her lip. "Sorry," She says, belatedly, slowly.

"It's okay," Buffy says, simply. "You've had a rough night. Do you want Giles to drive you home?"

"No." Willow says, immediately. "Where's Jesse?"

"He locked himself in the weapons' cage." Buffy admits. "I unlocked it, but he's still not let himself out."

Willow stands, walks over to the cage and sits, cross legged, in front of Jesse.

"I wanted to do - so many things," Jesse says, hoarsely. "I wanted to - to rip your throat out. I wanted to kill Cordelia _in the throes of passion. _I wanted to - to - I'm not that bad a person, am I?"

It's telling, Willow thinks. Some vampires can feel emotion. Spike, Drusilla - even her own evil Doppleganger. But some forget all the ties they had. It's disconcerting, to think that Jesse was one of those vampires. The ones like Angelus, but - at least less creatively, determinedly evil.

"No." Willow says, firmly. "You aren't. You've got a good soul, Jesse. Some demons are just stronger than that, and the one that got you got you good."

"So I'm weak." Jesse says, listlessly.

"Not even a little," Willow says, forcefully. "If you were weak - the combination of demon and soul would've killed you by now. Broken your mind and your spirit but you're still _here. _Still standing."

Jesse looks at her, eyes haunted. Willow wonders if this was worse than his old fate, or better. "Your hair was black," He says. "And you were so pale. I thought they'd got you too."

"Never." Willow promises. "It was just dark, Jesse." She tugs at a strand of her red, wavy hair. "Does this look black to you?" She asks.

"No." Jesse smiles, more of a grimace - but he smiles. "No, it doesn't."

Because it shouldn't. Thankfully, it looks like she'd put the concealment back on before returning with him.

Willow closes her eyes. She _hates _lying. But she's gotten so good at it. First with cheating on Oz, then with learning magic, then with - then with using it on Tara. Then when getting high off something or other.

Probably power. Willow doesn't do half-measures. It'd be like her to get hooked on power, she thinks, mercilessly. A fucking loser with no prospects in life, in the end. Too much shit going on, too much shit having happened. Too close to the edge to turn back.

So she fell over instead. That's what Willow thinks. She must have fallen over. It's such a big block. Willow wonders what she did, high on power, hurting. What she did to make her eyes black and her hair black and her veins black and her skin so damned lifeless. She _looked _like a junkie, if nothing else.

"I'm sorry Jesse." Willow says. "That I didn't get to you sooner."

"Me too." Jesse says.

"It's not - Jesse -" Xander says.

"This is my fault." Buffy says, quietly. "Don't pin this on Willow, Jesse. If you want someone to blame-"

"Darla." Willow says. "Blame Darla. And her Master. If not me, then they're the ones who did this."

"Darla's dead." Jesse says. "I heard. News travels fast when the master's favourite dies."

"You know where he is?" Buffy asks.

"Not exactly." Jesse sighs. He looks up, at the ceiling, and his tone is flat, his eyes are empty. He looks haunted, looks plain awful, and Willow wonders, again, if this is any better than Before.

Would it be kinder, for him to have died? For his soul to have never known the demon he'd be?

But it wouldn't, she thinks, if only because the other way is for Xander to kill him. And Willow can't let Xander kill Jesse. It's just not right, having to kill your best friend. It fucks you up, it does, and Willow thinks that's half of Xander's problems. He's just been fucked up and fucked over by life; his parents, his extended family, having to kill Jesse, having to watch as Angel ruined everything, lying to Buffy - after all, he fucked up too, but was it for the best? looking back, probably yes - and everything else, and it's just. Thinking about it, from this strange outsider's perspective on her own future. Yeah. She can see why it all went down like it did, for him. And, yeah, for the rest of them, too.

Willow's here to stop Pain, she thinks. Just, the existance of it. It hurts, it hurts so much, and she'd just wanted it all to stop.

There's a sudden cold, in her veins, a shiver down her spine. Willow realises she's lucky all future Willow decided to do was this, instead of just... ending it all. Ending _everything and everyone. _

What is the block hiding from her, Willow thinks, wonders, desperately. What did she _do?_

"It's late," Buffy says, and Willow realises she missed half the conversation.

"Right." Xander says. "Will?"

"I'll walk." She replies, standing.

"Willow-"

"I have magic, remember?" Willow says. "I'll... I'll be fine, Buffy. See you tomorrow."

After all, the next day was Monday. Can't be late for school. As always, there are some constants - and this one, Willow clings to.

* * *

Jesse is moved, since him being holed up in the weapons' storage is not a good idea. He stays in Giles' office the night, and Willow and Xander and Buffy all escort him to classes. Willow doesn't really remember what happened leading up to the harvest, doesn't remember the order, but it doesn't matter anymore, she doesn't think. Not with them all looking at her like that. 

"What?" Willow asks.

"Something up, Wills?" Xander asks.

"I'm just tired," Willow shrugs. "No big."

"Giles said it probably drained a lot, doing everything you did." Buffy says. "You'll probably feel pretty awful for a few days."

Willow's been feeling weird and awful and great and confused intermittantly since she woke up that fateful morning. She's used to it, in a strange, world-weary way, even though she's only sixteen. Her memories are older than that, though.

"Oh, good," She says, relieved. "Math first, after homeroom."

Xander groans, and the topic moves to something lighter. Willow chimes in, babbling away, and it lessens her awful mood, brings brighter smiles to her friends' faces. Jesse, she thinks, is lucky he's so unflappable, in that weird way of his. It's not like Oz, who is truly unbothered by most occurances, but it's... a sort of resilliance. Something shakes his world, and Jesse can pretty much deal with it by the next day. It's something, she thinks.

Better than him being dead.

* * *

It turns out the harvest is the next day. Great.

Well. Willow lets it happen, again. Jesse's on their side, this time, which is easier to deal with. He's a bit - subdued, but it's better than dead, so she leaves him to it. He's got a lot to deal with, and it's... probably better if he deals with it sooner rather than later. A soul can eat away at you, even if it hadn't been gone all that long, relatively speaking.

Willow does her level best to act like - like she is now. A strange fusion of her young self and her - post drug-addiction self. Or the eventual culmanation of drug addiction and trauma self. Willow still hasn't quite figured that one out, but, anway, Buffy kills Luke.

It all happens basically the same, and she's okay with that. Jesse doesn't die. That's all she'd needed to change, this time, and here it is - changed.

Good.

* * *

Amy. 

Of course.

"She's a witch, right?" Willow says.

"An evil one, Will," Xander looks up from his book - which he is totally using to look at naked women instead of research, Willow remembers - "_Evil." _

"I'm sorry Willow," Buffy says.

"We were friends," Willow argues. "I can talk to her. Witch to witch. She's probably just - her mom was always really hard on her. She's probably just under a lot of pressure and she's probably just scared, and I just, I want to try the peace-age before the slay-age you know? And if it goes bad I can - I can turn her into a rat."

Jesse looks up from his book (again, naked women) and blinks at her. "You can do that?" He asks.

I can do anything, Willow thinks.

"Probably." Willow says. "Worst comes to worst, I can - you know."

"It's my job." Buffy says.

"She's my friend." Willow replies, standing. "I'll be back. If she's - if she's really just evil, then go ahead. But - I doubt it."

* * *

Willow leaves the school - _teleports, _like she had with Jesse the other morning, before everything went so swiftly down the drain - to go to Amy's house. She finds Amy, in her Mother's body, scared out of her wits.

But Willow sits her down, calms her down, and tells her she knows. Amy cries, because - god, Willow doesn't know how long Amy's been stuck as her mother, been stuck under the abusive witch's thumb, but Willow's not willing to let it last any longer.

Of course - whammied slayer. How could she forget. Buffy shows up, loopy, with Giles in tow, and - god. At least Xander's not alone, now that Jesse's undead and soulful. Willow misses their team, as broken as it was. Anya, as much as she didn't get her, Spike, as much as she hated him at times, Tara... god. Tara. She misses Tara so _much, _and Willow doesn't even know who she is.

Willow fixes Buffy - so easy, it's so easy. She - _would be - this isn't a memory - _ in the girl's head before, in a much more dire situation, and it takes her only a moment to disapate the curse. She shouldn't be able to do it, she can tell by Giles' expression, but she doesn't _care. _He'd never approved. Well, screw him. Maybe she is arrogant. At least she's got a reason to be.

"I can put you back." Willow tells Amy, for - god, the umpteenth time. "We can put her somewhere where she won't hurt anyone, ever again."

* * *

That night, Willow smashes the trophy, just in case, and puts a replica in it's place. The first person she's killed in this life.

Maybe it's a slippery slope, but Willow can't find it in herself to mind, much.

* * *

The whole penis-demon thing was just annoying, but it gave Cordy and Buffy middle-ground. Sure, okay, they were better off this time, less antagonistic because Cordy had been less mean, for whatever reason, so... again, Willow let it happen. She hadn't really been involved, and it's not like they know she has foreknowledge, so claiming ignorance and distraction via homework isn't looked at with any suspcion. 

But she kills the she-mantis. Xander doesn't need the trauma, and her other victims didn't deserve death. It's easy, too easy, to go to the teacher's house and just, with a single thought, burn the whole thing down. The cops find the cells in the basement, find the evidence of some fucked up shit, and they don't really investigate the cause with much of any effort. Probably assume an old victim did it, and Willow lets them. She did it _for _an old victim, so it counts.

* * *

Willow's not changing all that much, she doesn't think, but she gets _glances. _So she tries. Tones up the babbling, gets back into computer science with a vengeance. She's got quite the break, until the Annointed One shows up, so Willow uses the time to salvage her reputation, in a sense. Builds herself back up to normalcy, kind of - normalcy from the moment she'd woken up with all this power, at least - and stays there, for a few weeks. Slowly alters her wardrobe, but keeps the hair like it is, because she likes it. She stops getting glances, gets more smiles. Buffy relaxes, Jesse returns to his new normal, and Xander jokes around. There's less weight on his shoulders already, less pain. Not killing your best friend will do that to a guy. 

Still. Buffy starts dating Owen. It's almost laughable. Buffy reall does have terrible taste in men.

Willow scolds herself silently as they research about the annointed one, about the damned bus accident. She can't say it's the kid, because how the hell would she know.

Willow, knowing all this already and just - so tired of that, begs off and finds Amy. Its easier, talking to someone with fewer expectations. They hadn't talked for a while, so Willow's changes can be explained away, and they're both of the magic, so it's a nice way to pass the time, teaching a few things to Amy and pretending to learn a few things from her. Willow... she doesn't want Amy to be as alone as she was. It just - it wasn't fair. She and Buffy had gotten along pretty well, Willow had thought, and Willow had wanted to reconnect - but, things happened. They all got sidetracked.

So Willow tells her, about the annointed one. About the penis-demon. Amy laughed at that one, and it was pretty silly, so Willow laughed too. It wasn't _really _a penis, obviously, but it was a _metaphorical penis _snake demon. You know how it works.

* * *

Willow's not really at the point where she can kill a kid, thank god, so she's still worrying about what to do when they go to the zoo the next day. When she realises they're _at the zoo _she blanches. This is - Xander's issue, but she can't just, she can't just let it be. Being posessed can't be fun, and part of the reason she's here is to stop that pain, right? 

Right.

Willow finds the man who does the ritual, and she kills him. Burns him up and watches it happen, from twenty feet away with crystal clarity, watches his skin blacken and flake away as the red flesh appears before her eyes, and she watches, transfixed, as he screams.

Once he's dead, Willow promptly finds herself vominting into a toilet. She chokes out a sort of sob, sort of laugh, and wonders what she did to deserve this, because this is punishment. This is Hell.

* * *

He hadn't quite set up the ritual, anyway, Willow checks. It's good, she thinks and - that's good. No ritual, no evil man, no posessed Xander. The mean kids are just the mean kids, and all Xander did today was - stand up to some bullies. Protect someone. Willow forgets who. 

The rest of the time that would've been spent with evil-hyena-xander is... normal. Almost upsettingly so, though Willow can't figure out why. Maybe - maybe she's just... the future. Maybe this isn't common, just, normal happy days. Hanging out at the bronze, chatting. Talking to Amy about magic. Watching Giles train Buffy as she plays go fish with Xander.

Willow invites Amy in, and she's - nervous, but Buffy smiles. Jesse greets her, from his place on the stairs, and Willow notes he's keeping his distance. They've got him a pig's blood regular order, which the butcher doesn't question, given where he lives, but it's... hard, for Jesse, still. To reconcile what he is and who he is and what he was and who he was. He's different, like Willow's different, and Amy's different. There's a kind of kinship, there, Willow thinks, that she won't find with anyone else until Spike gets chipped, falls in love, and damn. Willow'd never thought she'd empathise with Spike, aside from that one time. Or that other time.

It's nice. Downtime is downtime, and Willow's down for that.

* * *

It's break, after that. Christmas, though Willow doesn't celebrate it. Hannukah, though, that she does, and it's great. Always is, really, until everything goes so far to shit that none of the celebrate anything, anymore, not really. 

Still, it's a nice time. Unfortunately, Angel shows his face way too soon after new year's, just - ungodly, how soon it is, and Willow's pissed. She's had a good few months. She's tired. She wants everything to be good, and painless, and happy.

But she lets it play out. Maybe it's because she's tired, but she does, and she's surprised, but not really, to hear that Buffy shot Angel, this time.

No Darla to prove he's good. No precendence, to believe it. And Angel, well, obviously he fled, but... Willow hopes they're avoiding a tragic repeat. It would be nice, she thinks, to not have to worry about next year's apocalypse.

* * *

Moloch is perhaps the easiest to deal with. Willow doesn't scan the book. She burns it, in secret, having hidden it in the library when she'd been left alone with the scanner and the computer and the stacks of old books. 

Willow's starting to think she's a bit of a pyromaniac.

* * *

The demon Sid was hunting, though, that had to be dealt with _quickly. _It's a messy job, but Willow knows who it attacks first. An ambush is easy, in that sense, and fighting it is easier. Wiping the victim's memory of the event is easiest, and she feels a sorrowful guilt, leaking through the block. _Tara, Tara, Tara, _she thinks, and whoever this Tara girl is, she caused Willow a lot of pain, but Willow's pretty sure it was mutual. 

Junkie, Willow reminds herself. She knows her future's not exactly heathly, but the implications of _wiping memories _causing the flood of guilt and _Tara _is...

Worrysome.

* * *

The next one is really just Buffy's to deal with, so she lets it happen. Sid's a bit annoying, though; she'd forgotten he was doomed to this earth unless he killed that particular demon, and he's lewd and angry and tired.

"I can wipe your memory and put you somewhere else." Willow tells him. "If that'd make you feel better."

"A fresh start," He murmurs, surprise clear even on his wooden face.

"Be a real boy," She half-jokes. "You deserve a rest."

Sid nods. There's a coma patient with no chance of recovery, and no memories of his own, no soul - just being kept alive by machines and human willpower in the next hospital over, so she takes Sid there and gives them both a new chance at life. It's for the best, she thinks, and hopes she's right.

* * *

It's easy, to let the prophecy happen, mostly because - well, she can't change it. Self fulfilling, and all; everyone involved would find a way. Willow can only sit by and watch.

Angel helps them, but he's more distant than in the last life. He cares because he has to, because it's his job, and yeah, at this point, that was most of it Before, but there was something else - because Buffy hadn't shot him. But she doesn't know about Darla in this life, doesn't know about their history, doesn't know that he'd have killed his own sire to save her. So she doesn't trust him, and he's wary around her, and it's for the bets, Willow knows, it really is.

It's unhelpful, though, that them working together is less easy. So Willow pushes, and pushes, and it works out mostly like last time, because she wanted it to. But Willow's down there with Xander, not Angel, and Willow places a hand on her chest and tells her to "Wake _up," _And she does, gasping for breathing and coughing up a lungful of dank cave water.

"Eugh." Buffy mutters. And then it happens as it did before. Just with no Buffy and Angel smooches, thank god.

* * *

Summer's the same, but it's not. Jesse's here, and Amy is closer to the group, if not quite in it, and that changes enough. Willow isn't hanging around only Xander, and she's not crushing anymore. She knows where that way leads, and it leads only heartbreak. And pain.

And pain is what she's here to _stop. _So...

Willow enjoys her summer. She lets her guard down, a few times, when a baddie runs at them, lets her hair streak black, sometimes lets her veins darken a few shades, but... that's it. She's not - not sure enough. Not sure they wouldn't turn on her, like they had last time, even though she was just doing the right thing. She was just avenging her Tara, and - and hadn't that been what they did? Killed killers. Tara's killer just happened to be a person.

Willow sucks in a breath.

_Her Tara. _

Oh.

Willow starts crying, and she's glad they'll think it's because of the movie, and not because she just realised she'd had a girfriend, and that girlfriend had _died_.

* * *


End file.
